


City Of

by cher



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Atlantis Team, Brainwashing, Dreams and Nightmares, Ghost In The Machine, M/M, Maybe-Sentient Atlantis, Mind Control, Missing Persons, Mystery, Pre-Slash, Red Shirt Deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-02 13:27:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16306031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cher/pseuds/cher
Summary: John's having a great day. Everything is awesome.Everyone else feels watched.





	City Of

**Author's Note:**

  * For [debirlfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/debirlfan/gifts).



John was having a great day. 

The mess had his favourite pudding available at breakfast, which would have been a non-trivial miracle even at lunch. His favourite corner table was free—come to think, _all_ the corner tables had been free, which was weird—so he could eat and keep an eye on everyone else in the mess at the same time. They were all at the centre tables, grouped together, military and civilian. Again, weird, but John was happy, sitting where he could see everyone, eating his pudding. 

Even better than the pudding, he'd woken up to the sound of Rodney's voice muttering to himself. Rodney didn't know John could hear him. It was something Atlantis had started doing lately, piping audio into John's quarters if she thought he might like it. He couldn't get the city to stop doing it, and as long as it was only audio from public areas it wasn't too creepy, he hoped.

It made him happy, though, Rodney's cranky muttering. It was good to know what his people were doing, that they were okay. He smiled at Teyla and Ronon as he passed them on his way out of the mess. 

He'd get to fly today, out over the city to take some of the science team to one of the damaged towers. He was looking for forward to it, seeing his city from the air again. Everything was pretty damn awesome. He walked the corridors, running his hands over the smooth grey walls absently, stroking the city as he went.

His hand trailed behind him, and if he didn't think about it too hard it was almost like his fingertips were sinking through the material of the walls. It was kind of cool. 

* * *

It started quietly, the way all the worst problems did in Pegasus. A tiny, tiny, increase in power use. A change in the quality of light. Restless nights, people playing cards late into their sleep shifts, an odd reluctance to be alone in Atlantis' halls.

The city was full of dreams and unease. In the mess, too many faces looked drawn and tired. People grouped together, military and civilian side by side instead of sitting at their usual tables of twos and threes with their shiftmates. There was something about everyone choosing the centre of the room that gave Rodney the creeps. 

Whatever was wrong showed in the odd silences between conversations, the too-loud laughter. People spoke quietly and looked over their shoulders. Rodney felt it as well, the press on his awareness. Before Atlantis he'd have dismissed it, found an explanation that made rational sense and moved on, but his time on Sheppard's team had taught him to trust his instincts when they said he was in danger. 

The military personnel maintained—grim, quiet, and ringing false—that nothing was wrong. The science team were more candid, willing to admit to their jumpiness and nightmares. In contrast, Sheppard seemed fine. Unusually cheerful, actually, and not even that false good ol' boy charm he could put on at a moment's notice and drop again just as quickly. Maybe he had a new girlfriend he hadn't told Rodney about. If so, he hoped viciously that she'd try to get too serious immediately, so that John would do what John did and good ol' boy her right out the door. Girlfriend or not, John wouldn't say anything about his dreams, unsettling or otherwise. 

Rodney himself kept dreaming about the walls being closer than they should be. If he tried to add that to the 'weird dreams people are having this week' pile, everyone would think it was just claustrophobia. It wasn't; what he dreamed about were the _walls_ , as if the walls themselves were stalking him. John would bray like a donkey if Rodney told him about it. 

In Senior Staff, they discussed the strange unease in the city, but on the basis of 'everyone is mildly freaked out and no one knows why', there wasn't much they could do. It might or might not be a real phenomenon. The power spike might or might not be related; Rodney's team were looking into it. The dreams and general restlessness were to be expected, according to Carson, considering their effectively-marooned state while in a guerrilla war with space vampires. 

Sheppard wasn't concerned in the slightest, which was the most worrying sign of all in Rodney's book. "Everyone's right here in the city, where we can keep an eye on them. It's fine," he told them. He was a paranoid bastard where his city was concerned, and his half-shrug and the particularly annoying version of his flyboy smirk were uncharacteristic as well as infuriating. So, either the hypothetical girlfriend was distracting to the point of incapacitation, or 'Sheppard is cheerful' belonged in the same list of the week's weirdnesses as 'everyone else is freaked the hell out'. Awesome. 

Elizabeth shot him a raised eyebrow, and Rodney made a face. Great. Rodney hated going behind John's back with Elizabeth, but it looked like this was going to be one of those kinds disasters. After the meeting, Rodney followed Elizabeth back to her office. 

"That was weird, right? Sheppard was weird?"

Elizabeth settled behind her desk. "I'd say that was a little out of character for John, yes. Do you know if there's anything that might be affecting his behaviour?"

Rodney clasped his hands nervously. Whenever this happened, it felt like being asked to snitch on his best friend to the principal. Which was ridiculous, because they were all adults, colleagues and professionals, and none of Rodney's principal-adjacent experiences had ever involved anyone else, _and yet_. "Well, he was so obnoxiously cheerful this morning—did you see him in the mess?—I thought he must have gotten—uh. Sorry, Elizabeth, you know what I mean. But not even that ascended h—" There went Elizabeth's eyebrow, shit. "Uh, sorry, sorry—made him act so relaxed, right? So now I'm wondering if we have a mind control problem. Again. I hate this galaxy."

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Let's just keep an eye on him for now, and I'll let Major Lorne know what the situation is. So far, we haven't seen anything more concerning than an unexpectedly cheerful mood, and some bad dreams, so let's not overreact. But...if you could ask Teyla and Ronon to stay with him as much as possible— _discretely_ , Rodney—I think we'd all feel better."

* * *

Two days later, and Rodney's team was ragged at the edges with their own worries and—he could be honest—the effects of Rodney's irritation. There was nothing rational about the small wrongnesses in the city, and it grated at him even as he, like most, looked over his shoulder when he knew no one was there.

There were times he could swear he heard something. 

Then one of the Marines didn't show for his shift. He wasn't in his quarters, didn't respond to comms, and couldn't be found in the obvious places. No one had seen him since he went off duty the day before. 

Sheppard organised search teams, but he did it with the air of someone who was expecting to catch the missing Marine in a prank, and was prepared to be amused by it. It was glaringly out of character, and jarringly out of step with the near-palpable fear that characterised his troops. 

Search teams with life signs detectors found nothing that day. On the next, a team discovered a pair of combat boots abandoned in an obscure corridor. They proved to belong to the missing Marine. Sheppard was still unworried, and told everyone he was sure Sergeant Raine was just fine. 

The city's paranoia spiked again. 

* * *

More and more people started to say that they heard the noises, something murmuring or calling, right at the edges of conscious understanding. The science team wouldn't stop talking about it, the something that they couldn't hear.

"Infrasound," Rodney said at last, fast, before anyone else could say what they were all thinking. "Certain frequencies, certain harmonics affect the human brain in unpredictable ways. Make them think they see ghosts, feel presences. There's dozens of recorded cases. That's all this is. Somewhere in the city there's a fan that's started up and the blades are creating an infrasound effect. We'll find it, and everyone will calm down."

Simpson, with her drawn, sleepless face, started to say something.

"There are no ghosts!" Rodney yelled, "There is no such thing! Everyone shut up and get back to work."

"I was going to say," said Simpson, steel in her voice despite the exhaustion, "that no one should be alone until we know what's going on."

"Oh," said Rodney. "Of course not, I was going to say that. No one works alone, take your radios everywhere, and make sure someone knows where you are at all times. That's it. Now get to work."

Rodney had them looking through the city logs for which systems were drawing power, and when and why. The tiny power spike was their only lead, but Rodney didn't think they were going to find anything. This thing, whatever it was, wasn't going to be found in a tamed and quiescent database.

He still kept dreaming of the walls, creeping closer.

* * *

John dreams of Atlantis. His city, his home, the only place his whole life that's he's really belonged. He loves Atlantis, in ways he wouldn't be able to explain and would never try.

But something is different lately, something has changed. The light looks different, and the air feels off, and his people have that war zone look, the constant checking over the shoulder that comes of living in proximity to enemy lines. He doesn't know why. 

He can see them, and sometimes he can hear them because Atlantis says he should, pipes them into his quarters and now even sometimes his headset. He tries not to look distracted when this happens unexpectedly. It stops being unexpected. The murmur is comforting. He just likes knowing where his people are. 

But the civilians look tired and his men look trigger happy, and if this keeps up someone's going to get shot.

He steps up their patrols, gets them in the training rooms every day, tries to run the jumpiness out of them. If they're tired, they'll sleep better, and that will be one thing off their minds. Only it doesn't work, the light is still wrong—though John thinks he's the only one who's noticed—and there are too many armed Marines with the whites of their eyes showing. They mutter about Sergeant Raine, though they needn't—the Sergeant is right there. 

John dreams of his people, all protected, and the walls, the grey, beautiful smoothness of them.

* * *

Living in the lost city of the Ancients was an experience that Rodney wanted to tell everyone about, and at the same time keep entirely to himself. Sometimes it overwhelmed him into uncharacteristic fits of effusiveness, and it embarrassed him. But science, math, music—all his greatest loves—had always been about the mystery, and trying to explain the mystery. Understanding. There was more beauty and wonder in Atlantis than he would ever come close to grasping, even if he figured out how to live as long as an Ancient. He knew he was possessive of the city, jealous of it, and also that he wasn't as weird about Atlantis as John was. But Rodney loved Atlantis, in a weirdly personal way that he'd never tried to articulate for fear of sounding like some kind of literature major.

The other thing Rodney had come to understand about Atlantis was that she was _hungry_ , in a bottomless, insatiable way that their tiny human lives couldn't hope to touch. He'd never say any of that out loud, because it was the most unscientific lot of hooey he'd ever entertained, but it was still true. She was hungry, her appetites were unfathomable, and she wanted something from them that they hadn't provided. The personnel who worked directly with the city's core systems systems all knew it, and it had always gone unspoken.

They were all superstitiously afraid that if Atlantis heard them, she might do … something.

Rodney used to hope that it was just power she wanted, that when they finally find a ZPM for her, she'd be content. But he'd been here in her corridors long enough now to be sure down to his bones that it wasn't that simple. Nothing in this entire terrifying galaxy had ever been easily satisfied, least of all Atlantis.

John had never been afraid of her, and that had always worried Rodney. Lately, it terrified him, and he made all kinds of excuses not to let him go off alone. He wasn't above the pretense of being too scared to go anywhere without his personal military escort if it meant he knew where Sheppard was, even if it stung that John believed him when he said he was scared. 

Sergeant Raine remained missing. 

* * *

There's still something off about the light. John decides he's got to talk to McKay. There's something wrong with his men, too, maybe with the whole city. Rodney's terrible at individual people; Simpson could turn her hair pink overnight and Radek could show up wearing Ronon's vest and nothing else and he might not notice, but this is a pattern, and a pattern is data, and _that_ Rodney will see. 

"Oh," says Rodney, and he's eyeing John oddly again. He's been doing that a lot lately, even when John smiles at him. "You've noticed now? Good, I guess that's good. You're right about the light, I'm actually surprised you can see it. Pilot, I guess. It's a small spectrum shift; not important for us, but the Botany team hates it. Apparently it upsets their plants. I've got Miko trying to fix it."

"She find anything?" John asks, hopeful. He likes Miko, she's quiet and patient and fierce when annoyed. She has a bright red dress that she wishes she could wear more often. He doesn't know how he knows this. 

"Not yet. The way the lights work in the city, this shouldn't even be possible. Explaining how it happened, let alone why, is going to take time."

"Did you run it past Carson? Could the light shift be making people jumpy somehow?"

Rodney points at him. "Noticed that too, have you? About time. No, whatever's making the whole city act like Freddy's coming to get them isn't the light. Carson said it wouldn't be that, but it's Atlantis, who knows, right? So we sent a couple of the jumpiest ones out to the piers for all their shifts, and a couple I thought were going to murder me with their screwdrivers if I got too close—don't smirk, Sheppard—out to the mainland for couple of days. Now, if it was the city's lighting sending them loopy that effect should have disappeared with decreased or removed exposure, but all of them were still going Bride of Chucky as soon as we had them back here. It can't be the light."

John awards himself points for leaving the screwdrivers comment alone. "Okay. So what else changed around the same time?"

"That incremental power spike I told you about. I'd ask if you'd been touching things again, but I don't think I really want the answer."

John narrows his eyes at McKay. "Just the walls. And before you ask, no, nothing lit up or started beeping. I would have told you."

McKay looks at him oddly. "Wait, what did you just say?"

"The walls? Come on, McKay, even the Ancients can't have booby trapped their walls. I mean, we'd have found it before now if they had, right?"

McKay gets that intense look; hopefully the one that meant he was about to save the day, rather than the one that meant there was a long rant coming. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference before he got started. Kind of fascinating either way, though. 

"They said that too, the ones that were the craziest. And I've been dreaming about—the walls. It's got to be something to do with the walls."

But what could be wrong with the walls? They were just…there. Atlantis' beautiful grey walls, with the surprising panels of colour and decoration here and there. John loved them. He smiled, thinking about them.

McKay's snapping his fingers right in John's face. He doesn't know why he even likes the guy sometimes, he's just so annoying. Distracting.

Could be the dreams.

* * *

The scientist Rodney sent out to the West Pier to check on Botany's outdoor project didn't radio in on schedule. When they tried to get her on comms, she was unintelligible, incoherent, and neither of the Marines who were supposed to be with her answered at all. 

His stomach felt full of leaden fear. Sergeant Raine never came back. He was missing for maybe twelve hours before anyone looked for him; maybe if they're fast they can find Greish and the Marines before they disappear for good. 

For a wonder, Sheppard was actually worried, as frantic to look for his people as Rodney had ever known him. Under his own fear, it was a relief. The pod-person Sheppard of the last week had been surreal, and Elizabeth was one more breezy assurance of, "It's fine!" from relieving him of command. 

Sheppard just kept insisting that Raine was okay, on the basis of no evidence that Rodney could see. Rodney hoped he actually was. 

For everyone not Sheppard, the dread had been growing day by day. Something's been building up, something that they could all feel. If he were a less scientific man he'd invoke Lovecraft, and the cosmic, creeping dread. Come to think, they had enough ocean to support Lovecraft's Elder Gods three times over, and Rodney couldn't even tell anymore if this line of thought was helping him or making him feel worse. If only he didn't feel so _watched_ all the time—

He and Sheppard rounded a corner, and found the lost team. Rodney almost wished they hadn't. Military Guy One was gone, minus his weapons and his boots, which were strewn on the floor. Why the boots, again, and not the clothes? Military Guy Two was dead, which was the thing Rodney wanted to focus on, and not the fact that the half of his body they could see was—somehow—emerging from the corridor wall. Or as was more likely, if the thought didn't make Rodney want to scream, he was being dragged _into_ the wall and the process killed him.

His science brain kicked in and started whirring, and sometimes he wished it wouldn't but—

"It kills them if they don't want to go," said John, low and incandescent with anger the way only danger to his people could bring out in him. "Peters must have let it take him."

They found the third member of the team, Greish from the Botany labs, crouched in the middle of the next corridor, as far from the walls as she could get. She was panicky, glassy-eyed and hyperventilating, but alive. She'd kept her head and lived, and maybe now she knew something.

"He's in the wall," she said, and Rodney wasn't sure she was really seeing him. "Lieutenant Peters is in the wall, he's looking at me. He's watching me, he's watching me." Her voice was almost a chant. It scared Rodney almost more than Guy Two did, who was not entirely in the wall.

John crouched down in front of her, and Rodney could see him wrestle his rage down, pull out his charm offensive like Greish was this week's mission babe. He knew he was being unfair, but he thought he was allowed, right now. There was a man in the wall.

Possibly, there was also _a man in the wall, watching_ , and some days Rodney was just completely done with the Pegasus galaxy.

* * *

They pulled everyone back after that, no one going outside the central areas of the city unless with a team of at least five. They bunked in groups, and the science team kept working feverishly. Elizabeth wanted to evacuate to the mainland, but Sheppard wouldn't have it, and seemed sane—angry, at last—enough to be heeded. Lorne backed him up. Rodney didn't want to go, either; they couldn't solve this remotely and the more people present the safer—so far—each individual seemed to be. 

In all their dreams there was a man in the wall. Raine's friends, and now Peters' as well, thought that the walls were watching them, specifically. Lorne wouldn't let them out on patrols and had argued with Sheppard about letting them keep their sidearms. So far Sheppard had won, and Rodney wasn't sure what he thought about that. At least he was saying something besides, 'it's fine'. 

Once, Rodney caught John with his hand sunk into a wall up to his wrist, his eyes vacant. He shouted and tackled him bodily away, and they went down in a tangle of limbs. John must have been out of it, because he didn't push Rodney away immediately. He didn't seem to remember his hand being in the wall. He patted vaguely at Rodney's hair and told him—of course—that everything was fine, and Rodney almost embarrassed himself by crying with mingled fear, relief and anger. 

After that, they didn't let John go anywhere without Rodney, Teyla or Ronon. John didn't seem to find anything strange about them following him, and that in itself was alarming. He even seemed happy to have their company. Rodney thought it was maybe the second creepiest thing about the current disaster, just behind Sanchez, half in the wall, which was saying something.

The science team kept working, in the now-cramped central areas. After three days of increasing misery, four fist fights, one broken laptop and a lot of shouting, they had a breakthrough. Miko discovered a subroutine that had started running at the right time for the first effects, pulling the right amount of power for their culprit. Inevitability, it resisted any attempt to shut it down on the system. From previous painful experience, that meant the subroutine was running from a particular device, and the only way to stop it would be to shut the device off again. 

"We're going to have to go and look for anything we might have activated around that time," Rodney said reluctantly. All the possible candidates were further away than they'd let any patrols go since the city ate Peters, Sanchez, and (presumably) Raine. 

Rodney didn't try to argue Sheppard into staying behind, but only because they almost always needed his gene to shut down stubborn devices. Ronon came, to watch Sheppard, and Teyla, wielding a Wraith stunner and keeping a close eye on all of them. Greish, because she had more backbone than anyone had expected of her, and of all of them she knew what to watch for if things were about to get dangerous. Miko, to find the device that matched what she'd found, and four Marines. To tackle anyone who tried to climb into a wall, Rodney guessed, though so far the Marine life expectancy rate wasn't looking good for this particular disaster. 

Rodney couldn't ignore how the feeling of being watched got stronger, the further away from the main population they got. It felt like attention concentrating on him, where before he'd been one of a group. There were men in the walls, though he tried not to think about it. 

They were jumpy, alternating fraught silence with nervous banter. Sheppard kept silent. 

Down in Botany—how did he know it was going to turn out to be Botany—one of the Marines suddenly broke and ran. Sheppard cursed and ordered the other three Marines and Teyla after him. Five was the number they'd agreed on as the smallest number of people who might be safe away from the expedition, and Teyla had the stunner. If someone tried merging with the wall, the stunner should stop them. So far, whatever this was had needed its victims to come to it under their own power. They hadn't been able to test it, but they thought it would work. Unless—happy thought—the floors could eat people as well. 

It might have been be his imagination, but the light seemed even more off in these corridors. Dimmer, somehow. Greish muttered under her breath; reciting primes to keep herself calm, Rodney thought. It made him miss Ford. 

"There," Miko said suddenly, as they entered another lab. She pointed to a device sitting on a workbench beside a tray of wilting plants. "It could be that one."

Greish nodded. "We couldn't work out what that one did at all. No one's moved it since this all started."

It didn't look like it was interfacing with anything, but that didn't necessarily mean it wasn't. The device looked like some kind of a tripod, or perhaps an irrigation device, which might have been why Botany had it. Finding out what Ancient devices did rather than what they looked like they should do was one of the great banes of life in Atlantis. Probably this thing would turn out to have nothing to do with plants whatsoever. 

Ronon's comm activated, and Greish jumped. Teyla said she needed help carrying two unconscious Marines while she watched the remaining two. Sheppard nodded to him. "Go, but keep the line open," he said. "Bring them back here, but don't bring them into the room. If this is the device, we might see some other effects when we start messing with it."

Ronon gave him a long look, assessing for current level of crazy, Rodney thought. Apparently satisfied, he nodded, and loped off. 

"And then there were four," Rodney muttered. It was like being in a really stupid horror movie. 

Miko and Greish approached the device cautiously and began looking for a way to shut it down—if in fact it was powered up in the first place; there were no helpful lights to tell them. 

Off to the side, one of the walls suddenly glowed and pulsed. 

Sheppard spun around and shot it.

Rodney grabbed his arm. "What are you doing? It's a wall! Are you trying to kill us with the ricochet?"

"Sorry," John said, not sounding like himself. Rodney looked at him closely; the ridiculous hair, the mobile expression trying to settle into Military Commander, Not to be Messed With, but something in John's eyes contradicted the rest. He looked terrified.

…of a wall? Well, a carnivorous wall, but still, it couldn't _move_ —

"John," Rodney said, quietly, as if he could avoid spooking him, "what do you see?"

John breathed out, kept his eyes trained on the glowing panel. "It's watching us. Listening. And Peters and Raine, too."

Well, that wasn't at all creepy. "Is it dangerous? I mean, obviously it's dangerous, but—"

"It can't leave the walls. But it can hear us, understand us, and it…wants," John said, that side-of-his-mouth flat drawl he did when he was in battle. Whatever this was, John was treating it as a threat.

"Can you understand it? Does it tell you want it wants?"

John shuddered under his hand, where Rodney was still holding on. "It's not words. It's more like...feelings, impressions. It's hungry. Lonely."

"Okay. Okay. Is it sentient, or just a program running on the city's systems?"

John leaned into him, his eyes still locked on the glow. Being the one of the two of them to be providing comfort, the reversal of roles, was starting to freak Rodney out. He told himself to keep it up, just a bit longer, for all their sakes. "I can't tell. It wants…so much. Just to see. To know we're okay. Maybe, if I give it…"

Sheppard started to move forward, half-reluctant, and Rodney panicked. He slapped his comm, yelled for Teyla, grabbed for John and tried to hold him in place. He couldn't; John dragged him forward. "Stop, John. Stop. It's influencing you, you need to fight it. Fight it, John."

"If I give it this, it should stop for a while. That's good, right Rodney?"

"What's 'this', John? What does it want you to give it?"

"If I…if I live in the wall with it, more watchers, it needs more watchers."

"Okay," Rodney said faintly. "Right then. Sorry about this," and he took John's unresisting face in his hands and pressed his lips to John's. John blinked awake, looking at him with wide, shocked eyes. 

Ronon came pounding back into the lab. He assessed the situation in an eyeblink, and bundled both of them back the way he came by main force. Then he went back for Miko, Greish, and the device. Maybe they should just send Ronon to do these kinds of things on his own, next time. No way he'd decide to go live in the wall, was there. 

John snapped out of it fast, whatever it was. Rodney couldn't tell if it was the kiss, or decreased proximity to the glow. He really, really hoped that the reprieve from pod-Sheppard would last. And also that the glowing wall deal couldn't happen whenever and wherever it chose, even as he thought it was a futile wish. 

"Still want to go and live in the wall?" Rodney asked John acidly. 

"Okay," John said. "That happened. Okay. Glowing wall tried to eat me."

"You tried to feed yourself to the wall! What the hell, Sheppard?"

They stared at each other, and Rodney could just about see the moment he decided to ignore what Rodney had done to stop him. He swallowed the reflexive flash of hurt. "Well. Thanks for not stunning me, I guess."

Behind them, there was a curse, and the distinctive sound of a control crystal hitting the floor. They all sat up straighter, as the feeling of being watched disappeared as though it had never been. When Rodney blinked, the light seemed brighter. 

"Got it," Miko said into the silence. "I got it."

John's eyes shifted away, and he smiled at everyone, the bullshit version. Rodney loved and hated it at once. Sheppard's shutters had slammed down, and Rodney had probably lost his chance at forcing a conversation. "Okay then," John drawled. "Let's head back, maybe all get some sleep."

Rodney reported back to Elizabeth that the threat was over, and felt old and exhausted. 

* * *

John bullshitted his way through his debriefing with Elizabeth, and his sessions with Heightmeyer. He bullshitted Carson slightly less, because Carson kind of knew about the Rodney problem. 

All three of them decided he was free of any desire to live in any walls, and he'd managed to avoid using the word 'fine', which apparently now freaked everyone the hell out every time he said it. Made Heightmeyer's sessions a real pain in the ass. 

And now he couldn't avoid the labs any longer. He should thank Miko again for what she'd done. Ask Rodney for a beer. Confess about the audio creeping. Maybe see what happened after that. 


End file.
